


Final Darkness

by tielan



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-04-25
Updated: 2005-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The key moments in her memory are defined by light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Final Darkness

Many of the key moments in her memory are defined by light.

She remembers the rays of the setting sun lancing into her eyes as she turned to answer a friend who'd called out to her from behind. When she blinked the tears away, she was staring into the dark eyes of a man with a quiet soul. That was her first sight of Simon.

She remembers the gleaming explosions of the civic fireworks display on July 4th \- and the instant when they became secondary to the kiss he planted on the corner of her mouth. The bursts of light and colour washed over their faces as she turned her face to his and kissed him back.

She remembers.

She remembers the sun-bright desert outside a small village in Iran, and the panic that filled her as the negotiator - a weatherbeaten Texan with a gruff voice but a love of people of all kinds and colours - stepped out 'for a cigar to calm his nerves' and undiplomatically left her in charge of the diplomatic process.

She remembers the glitter of the sun over the hood of the jalopy as they caught a lift back to the embassy and he chuckled. "You ain't half ballsy for a Northeastern bit. Good work, Weir."

She remembers a moment of purest contentment in Rome, where Simon had come to meet her after the Balkan negotiation. The moon gleamed off the diamond he hung around her neck, a sparkling promise given depth and beauty by the tenderness in his eyes as he looked across at her.

She remembers.

She remembers the glittering brilliance of the sun off snow as she arrived at the Atlantis base in Antarctica, and the excitement that surged within her as she looked at the universe of possibilities that unfurled before her eyes.

She remembers the flare of the Stargate as the blue-white light burst from the stone ring in the Gateroom of the SGC. Her heart drummed a frantic pace as she contemplated her future, although she spoke calmly to the men and women who were now under her command.

She remembers the growing brightness of Atlantis as it awoke to the presence of humans. Light gleamed over surfaces that had known only darkness for who knows how many thousands of years? A line from her childhood Sunday school lessons returned to her then: _And it was very good._

She remembers the way the sunlight shimmered through the thousands of gallons of water above them, shifting with the eddies of the sea. Awe-filling and terrifying, the sea had truly reached out to claim Atlantis - and did, even as she watched.

She remembers the muted sheen of the ships in the bay, a detail in the background of her mind as she ran to find the one with Major Sheppard and Dr. Zelenka. Too many others had already died, but maybe they could save a few.

She remembers the flash of light that changed everything.

Elizabeth remembers.

She remembers the light filtering down through the deep sea around Atlantis, abandoned by the Ancients, held by one human. She remembers brushing her hand over the walls and wondering, hoping, _praying_ that the expedition might have a second chance.

And she remembers the long, dark journey home, sleeping all the way, a modern Rip Van Winkle.

If the key moments in her memory are comprised of light, the darkness is where she has no memory but only dreams. Faces and lights drift in and out of focus, on the tides of thought that ebb and flow with the turning of the seasons and the currents of the years.

As she sits in her wheelchair and stares out at the sun on her balcony, she savours the feel of the sun on her face, on her skin, warming her old, old bones.

She wants to linger here in this moment of light and beauty, but her time is short and slipping fast between her fingers.

Carson is right; her time here in Atlantis is limited - and her time here in Atlantis is just beginning.

Her life will end, but Elizabeth Weir will live on, survive, thrive.

As her other self turns in excitement to Rodney, explaining the significance of the note, Elizabeth feels the darkness reaching out to collect her consciousness again. It is nothing to slip into that darkness, to flow away with the shadows that claim her for the last time.

And in the darkness, that final darkness of death, there is light.

\- **fin** -


End file.
